Please do not touch Howie Mandel. Just trust us on this one.
Please do not refer to the shady banker who makes you offers while sitting upstairs in a dimly lit office as just "The Banker." He has a name, and he would prefer you use it. It's Shylock Moneygrubbs.
The producers have brought your family on the show for one very good reason: to manipulate you into making bad decisions. Please try to honor their wishes.
It is perfectly acceptable to leer at the models who open the briefcases, and even to make flirty comments to them, but be warned that any attempt to fraternize with them after the show will result in your abdominal cavity being opened like a briefcase, as that is all these young women know how to do.
You may instinctively ask if you can see what's inside a box covered with question marks, but we remind you that this is not the far more entertaining "Let's Make a Deal," and that your chicken costume is well outside our dress recommendations.
While you are encouraged to attempt to prove your intellectual superiority to 11-year- olds, the producers take no position on whether it is ethical to beat them up and take their lunch money.
We do, however, support beating up Jeff Foxworthy and taking his lunch money, as it is considered legitimate sport in most states.
If you manage to humiliate yourself as the producers expect, please do not cause further embarrassment by announcing that the premise of the show is "stupid." Everyone already knows that, including the 5th graders.
For just such a reason, if you feel that this show is too difficult for you, you may be asked to audition for the spinoff show that begins next fall, "Are You Smarter Than a FOX Network Executive?"
Note that the name of the show is not, in fact, "Do You Have a Bigger Schlong than a 5th Grader?" and as such, you should not make any attempts to prove such an accomplishment.
This show has nothing to do with attacks by gigantic hordes of ninjas, so please be aware of that when entering the studio, especially if you tend to travel with huge hordes of ninjas.
If things aren't going well, try falling down or hitting yourself in the crotch with a Wiffle Ball bat. By lifelong contractual obligation, Bob Saget is required to narrate it in an annoying, whiny voice.
If at any point you feel as though you do not understand the premise or purpose of this show, do not panic. Neither do the producers.
Be sure that the first thing you do when you see Penn Jillette is ask him where Teller is. He loves that.
Producers advise that you do not become confused and mistake the show for a godawful John Cusack movie in which all the characters are actually all the different aspects of a serial killer's psyche. And yes, we just spoiled the ending, but, honestly, you really did not want to see it anyway.
Oh, don't seem so shocked that the sweet-looking 19-year-old is actually a mother of three. She's clearly a whore.
Here's what we know: Somebody on that stage is a mime. We need you to figure it out so we can take him out back after the show and beat his fucking ass. We're counting on you, guy.
When you want to quit the game, don't just rudely say that you're going to walk away. Ask to be excused and place your napkin gently over the screen displaying the question.
If you use the "ask the audience" lifeline, do not pander to the crowd and talk about how smart they are. We all know that none of these people have jobs.
Call Meredith Vieira "Reege" one more time, and she'll hand you your ass and feed it to you. Go ahead, test her.
Take all the time you need to answer every question — perhaps even more than you need.
There's a lot of money at stake here, and nothing makes for better television than someone sitting around and trying to remember the name of the pig on "Green Acres."
The "phone a friend" lifeline is not to be used as an outlet for phone sex. Not that it wouldn't be entertaining, but, come on, you've only got 30 seconds, so it's hardly worth it.
There is no etiquette on MTV's NEXT. Just do whatever the hell you want, like rubbing your crusty, STD-laden snatch all over everything, you disgusting, hideous monstrosity of a human being.
It's probably better if you don't talk, but if you must, just say Don Francisco's name over and over again, because it's really all he wants to hear.
Be sure to keep two things in mind before you apply to appear on the show: that the show is four hours long, and that pissing onstage is only acceptable in those games that involve stage pissing.
We're well aware that the female co-hosts are more attractive than anyone you've seen in person before, but the more noticeably you wag your tongue and change into a cartoon wolf, the less likely they are to take you seriously.
Those people are speaking some other language, we know. Just go with it.
Don't come if you're not going to come big. They don't call it "Sabado Medio," pussy.
Matt Wilson wastes most of his day writing stuff for The MW Blog.